Signed, Sealed, Delivered
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: I always say I hate mushy stuff, and then I go and write THIS. Oh, well. This is a supremely fluffy one in which Dimitri tries to get home in time for Anya's 21st birthday. Mind you, I said FLUFFY, not STUPID. Dialogue is good.
1. Bad Day to Delay

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**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Anastasia! Do I look like Don Bluth to you? (I DO own Lydia and Rosaline, though. You'll see more of them. No stealy.)**

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The train had stopped moving. That was it. That, or it was going so slowly that the trees had stopped moving by and a particularly ambitious _rabbit_ could have beaten them.

Dimitri banged his head against the window for what had to have been the five-hundredth time. The train was moving, but its constant stopping and starting made Dimitri wonder if the conductor hadn't had a few.

Speak of the devil, the old conductor waddled his way to the front of the car. "Uh...beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, but we're experiencing some slight difficulty at the moment...."

Dimitri tuned the old codger out, turning back to the window. He'd gotten the jist in three seconds; what did he need the details for? In short, the train would have to be delayed. Passengers would be put up at the depot, where they were "welcome to" catch the next train the following day. And Dimitri would be a day late to Paris. He was screwed.

He checked his watch for the millionth time, as if it had some sort of useful power to it. No such intervention. He sighed. Anya was going to kill him. No, she wasn't going to kill him--she was way too forgiving to kill him. But she _should_ kill him.

It was his own idiotic fault--he knew he should have known better than to take off two weeks before her birthday and still expect to be home in time. Now, he was stuck a day outside of France all together, and in three days, his best friend would turn twenty-one without him.

Distantly, Dimitri registered that the old coot was getting around to the verdict. He sat forward and listened in.

"So, as it turns out, our line may not be running for up to a week...of course, all expenses and compensations will be complimentarily repaid in full. Thank you for your patience."

_What?_

A ticket attendant came toward Dimitri's aisle, and Dimitri jumped out of his seat. "_What?_ A _week?_"

"I'm sorry sir, conductor's orders..."

"Cond..._orders?_ No! I can't _be_ another week. I have to get home! Can't you--"

"_Sir_, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," the attendant interrupted. "Now, please sit down before you cause a scene."

Dimitri didn't intend to sit at all. "I _need_ to get _off_ this _train_. _Please_, just--"

The attendant blocked Dimitri's path. "_Sir!_ You will be forcibly removed from this train and placed under authoritative supervision if you continue to cause a disturbance. Is that understood?"

Dimitri sighed impatiently and dropped to his seat. That was the last thing he needed--getting arrested. How would _that_ look in the Romanov ledger? And what was he supposed to say to that? _No? It's Anastasia's birthday and we're not together? Oh, by the way, I'm her husband? I'm an idiot and I miss her? Wait, why am I being arrested?_ Uh-huh. _Please_. He'd have better luck pulling this train home himself.

The forty-ish guy sitting next to him looked up from his newspaper. "If you don't mind my asking, what's so urgent, anyway?" he inquired.

Dimitri reduced the truth, simplified it, and gave it to the guy in the plainest, most understatedly believable way possible. "It's my wife's birthday," he said.


	2. Using A Lifeline

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He arrived at the train depot several hours later, tired, scruffy and irritated with everyone. Still, he fought his way through the crowds and made a beeline for the telephone.

Dimitri hadn't heard Anya's voice in days; the last place he'd landed in with a telephone was two borders ago. But he had no intention of calling her now, no intention of telling her he was delayed, just in case he managed to make it home after all. Luck had always been at his side like the cat he'd never asked for. No, he had some buisiness to attend to.

He turned the dial to Vlad's number and waited impatiently for an answer. It rang, and rang, and then just for suspense's sake rang some more. _Come on, come on_....

"Hello?" came a groggy voice.

"Vlad! It's me."

"Dimitri?" There was a pause, and Dimitri assumed Vlad was shuffling around for the clock. "Where are you now?"

"It doesn't matter; listen--I'm not gonna make it home in time for Anya's birthday. There was some trouble with the train, I'm okay, I'll explain it all later. Right now I need you to do me the biggest favor I will probably ever ask for."

Vlad sighed. "I'll add it to the list."

"Yes! Grab a pen."

Another pause on Vlad's end. "All right, go on."

He gave Vlad a list of instructions, waiting intermittantly to make sure he was getting it all down. Dimitri also explained that he'd written and sent a letter, and instructed Vlad on just what was to be done with it. When he finished, he heard Vlad let out a yawn.

"Are you sure that's it?" he said, half sarcastically.

Dimitri ignored it. "Yeah, that's everything. _Thank_ you. I owe you one, my friend."

"I'll add it to the list."

"See you in France," Dimitri said, and hung up the phone.


	3. Good Morning, Good Morning

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Three days later in Paris, Anastasia awoke to the sight of the summer sun spilling across her pillow, mimicking the cascade of her fiery hair. She rolled over, and for exactly the fourteenth consecutive time, saw an undented pillow and an empty space in the room.

Anya rolled back over with annoyance and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She was met with a pleasant surprise when she looked at the floor around her.

Sophie, Lydia, and Rosaline were all grinning up at her from their spots on the carpet. Her grandmother sat on the chaise across the room. They were all in their nightclothes, sitting on pallettes made from cashmere blankets, and a full continental breakfast awaited them all on a silver serving tray at the door.

"Well, good morning, your highness," Lydia chirped. "My, don't you look rested."

"She has to be; she's the birthday girl," Rosaline interjected.

Anya took her necklace from the nightstand and slipped it over her head. "How long have you guys been here?" she asked, smiling almost ear-to-ear.

"As long as it took. Happy birthday, darling," her grandmother said.

"Enjoy twenty-one, Anastasia; it will turn into thirty-seven before you can blink," Sophie added.

"_You're not old_," Anya, Rosaline and Lydia said in unison. It had become a frequent discussion. Sophie merely shrugged and looked into her orange juice. "This is awfully weak," she said after taking a long sip.

Marie rolled her eyes before she spoke. "Well, come on, dear; you've got a full day ahead of you, and you certainly can't spend it all in bed. Up!"

"It's party time!" Lydia cried.

So, Anya got up. It certainly wasn't the morning she'd expected, but it was about as wonderful a morning as could possibly be, considering the abscence of her best friend.


	4. The Second Best Pleasant Surprise

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That night, Anya, Marie and the girls approached the door to Anya's home, led by Vlad, their driver for the evening.

"Right this way, your majesty," he said, and swung open the door with a flourish.

All five women gasped, and four exchanged highly impressed glances. Only Anya stepped forward into the foyer.

In the center of the room, there stood a short oak table, one that had always been there. Its contents, however, were brand new. A tall, wide glass vase sat in the center of the table, filled with what could have easily been thousands of yellow, white, pink, and lavender flowers. Daffodils and roses stretched into the air, dripped from the vase, and covered the expanse of the table. Below the flowers, a thin diamond bracelet was perched on the oak, and beside it, a folded letter, with "Anya" written loosely across the front.

Rosaline was the first to speak. "Is there a note?" she asked practically.

Anya had to swallow before she could talk. "Yes."

"Well, _read_ it!" urged patience-less Lydia.

Anya stepped forward and picked up the letter. Slowly, she lifted its first fold and scanned the first few words. She instantly knew the handwriting. "It's from Dimitri," she gasped. While her friends whispered excitedly behind her, Anya silently read the letter in its entirety.

_Anya;_

_Before I say anything else, I want to apologize. Being there for you today meant more to me than whatever reason I left ever could. I'm sorry. I messed up. We both know I don't deserve to be with you, and probably never will. But don't worry, I'm working on it. I intend to spend the rest of my life treating you exactly like the royalty you are. I'm coming home as fast as I can. Happy birthday, Anya. I hope you know how much I love you, because I don't say it often enough._

_--Dimitri_

Anya was generally not a crier. Ever. She'd had a tough latter childhood, and had learned enough about life that it took more for things to affect her. But, even as she finished the last sentences of his letter, her eyes started to fill, and she found herself accepting Vlad's handkercheif.

The girls had crowded around her by that time, nosily reading over her shoulder. They finished with a collective "Awwww," and Anya put on and stared at the diamond bracelet while they passed the letter around.

Vlad went home after a while, and the rest of the party was spent sitting around the fire, admiring Anya's wrist and talking over cake and iced tea.


	5. A Perfect Technicality

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When all was said and done, when presents had been presented and goodbyes had been said, Anya put out the fireplace in the den. She walked, happy, tired, and just a little lonely, toward the staircase, the one by the front door.

The house was dark and quiet. Anya approached the doorway to the foyer, that much closer to sleep. What she saw, just beyond the mahogany arch, was a silhouette in the darkness. She stopped walking. The silhouette was tall, very familiar, and held a suitcase in one hand. He dropped it.

She didn't say a word. He didn't say a word. But, at exactly the same time, they both moved toward each other, almost without walking. At exactly the same time, they kissed, wrapping their arms around each other, and neither wanted to be the first to let go.

Anya was the happiest she'd been all day. _Now_, finally, her birthday had been perfect. If anyone didn't deserve anyone in this situation, it was her. Finally, she pulled away. She let an elated smile work its way over her face.

"Anya, I'm so sorry," Dimitri gasped. "I did everything I could to get here. My train got delayed--if I had thought...."

Anya cut him off. "No," she said. "I know. You don't have to apologize; it's not your fault." She paused. "Your letter...."

"Was all true," Dimitri finished. "Everything. I meant it. And I _do_ have to apologize. I _am_ sorry. I screwed up. I was supposed to be here. I felt terrible all day. I must have taken nine cabs to make it here before morning."

He put both his arms back around her and hugged her as tight as he could, and so did she. When she stepped back, she smiled at him and held up her wrist, turning it so that the bracelet would catch the moonlight.

"Beautiful," he said, looking at it, and then he grinned up at her. "And the bracelet's not bad, either."

Anya laughed. She reached for Dimitri's suitcase, but he blocked her arm. "Nope. You're still the woman of the hour. No lifting; that qualifies as work."

Suddenly, Anya remembered something. "Oh! Look at this." She ran to the bottom of the stairs, at which an old Romanov family Bible had been left. She turned to the "Births and Deaths" section in the front, and pointed to her own name in the first column. "Grandmama showed me."

Dimitri looked at the page where she was pointing. Then he looked back up at her. A confused "So?" was all he could manage.

Anya just smiled, and pointed again, this time directly to the Time of Birth. Dimitri read it. _11:26 p.m._

He understood. Quickly, he looked up at the clock. It was exactly 11:19.

"I'm still twenty," Anya said quietly.

Dimitri felt himself smile. "You're still twenty."

"You made it."

He only had one thing left to say before he kissed her. "Happy birthday, your grace."

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**Okay, guys, let me know what you think! I love this story. The sap in me has to come out somehow. Special thanks to britney268 for being my first reader, who also added me to Favorite Authors. Thank you thank you thank you! As far as Story Update, I'm sorry, but that's all I've got for this one. DO NOT ABANDON ME, though! THERE WILL BE MANY MORE ANYA/DIMITRI STORIES TO COME! And **_**soon**_**. Promise. **


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